Already There
by Athena9
Summary: Hi, people! I've already written a fic about the Rejoining, but I couldn't resist. It's a monologue ficlet, Frodo's POV, at the harbor at Tol Eressea. He reflects while waiting for the ship. Rating for implied Slash. Please, review! Thank you!


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Author Notes: I've done the Rejoining before, I know (in a previous fic called "Dialogues"), but I love it so much I just couldn't resist. For those of you reading "One of These Days", I'll get back to that tomorrow ^_^ But I just had to write this. Please, take the time to review when you're finished! Signed or unsigned, I love reviews. (cough hint, hint) C'mon people! How much time does it take to write a little something nice? Thank you! I appreciate it!

I remember the first time I saw you – a tiny child of four, with your golden locks and astonishing eyes, so green, so very green. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I stood staring at you, speechless, before you disappeared through the tall grass of the field. I called after you, but you were gone, like a whisper in the wind. Where did you go? I never found out.

I remember the things you gave me, the little gifts. Glass beads, and flowers, and a bird's nest – and a portrait of myself, scratched onto a piece of birch. I was convinced someone else had drawn it, it was far too graceful for the work of a child. But, no – it was you. And all the other gifts, too, you gave to me; little treasures, brightly colored. Pretty things to make me smile. They made me smile, but not the way you did.

I always felt better with you. Even before I knew you, I loved you. So beautiful you were, and not just your face. You were always beautiful, Sam. You shine with a strong, unwavering light. Something in me recognized that light from the first, and I turned towards it, as a flower to the sun. So much younger than me, you were, and yet it made no difference. 

You were shy – so shy! But you overcame it. You have overcome every obstacle that sets itself in your path, no matter how forbidding. Your strength of will has never ceased to amaze me, Sam. You are incredible, whatever your thoughts on the matter. But for you, Middle-earth would lay in ruin; its lands burning, its heroes slain, its people enslaved, forever broken to the Dark Lord's will. 

But for you, I would have died – how many times, Sam? Of hunger, of thirst. Of despair, which kills more surely than a blade. The torment of the Ring had proved too much, without you. Gentle and sure, always there. The eternal optimist. The eternal sacrifice. Hunger and thirst and torment beyond telling took you, yet you never gave up, Sam, and hope must have cost you dear. Despair is far easier, but you would have none of it. Not you.

How much did you deny for me? You never told, but your body spoke eloquently for you. You were always slender, Sam – a poor boy from a hard-working family, and your build was unusually light. But strong, always strong. Such a strange combination to look upon, strange and lovely. Your broad shoulders and well-defined muscle, sliding so sensuously beneath that smooth, tanned skin. My willow-waisted Elf-god. Long time it was I thought these things, before I realized why.

You grew up, and strong and beautiful you were. All the girls – and most of the lads – loved you, but none so much as I. Many a night, you walked in my dreams, binding me to you with love so searing it was almost pain. Almost. And by day, you walked oblivious to the feelings that tumbled in my breast. How I longed to touch that silky hair, and feel that warm, hard body beneath my own.

I remember that first time I kissed you, and I still don't know what came over me, what sudden courage or daring. Your startled mouth so soft, so pliant beneath mine, until you pushed me away. You stared at me as though I had gone mad, and perhaps I had. Your eyes filled with sudden tears, and you ran. Hours I looked, till I thought of our meadow, and sure enough, I found you there. You were confused, and almost angry with me, though you said nothing. 

I sat awkwardly beside you, attempting to explain. I apologized over and over, swearing never to do it again if only you'd _talk_ to me. You silenced me with your mouth, and this time I pushed you away. Our eyes locked a few moments, emerald on sapphire, and then, leaning forward, our lips brushed. What happened afterward is known only to you and I and the meadowlarks, and so it shall remain. Our private joy – and it was joy, Sam. No beauty of Valinor compares to it, to you.

And after the Quest – your beautiful body! There was strong muscle still, but where once the lines of your bones were blurred, they stood out sharp and brutally hard. The smooth skin of your back was scored with lashes – Orc-whips are barbed, and cruel. Aragorn's touch healed them faster than they might, but the scars were there. You thought you could hide them from me, but I found out. Went looking for you, and found you in the Houses of Healing, Aragorn and Legolas beside you as you sat stiffly upright. 

I saw the bandages, Sam, that they unwound gingerly; saw the stains, blood and infection, and heard your sharp intake of breath. I saw your eyes open and look straight into mine, so wide with pity and horror, and the look of shame on your face was more than I could bear. I ran to you and clasped your hands, but you said nothing, heavy tears sliding silently over your pale cheeks. Why were you so ashamed of your injury? I asked and asked, but you only wept, and looked away. 

Legolas took me away, then, led me out into the gardens before returning to your side. I saw him gather you up – gentle Legolas, he always liked you, Sam – and hold you till you quieted. Then I realized your wounds ran just as deeply as mine, if not deeper. You just bore them better. I wept for you, and for the pain you bore alone, and I ran back. When I took you in my arms, you stiffened but a moment. Then you were mine again. Our tears mingled and I held you, rocked you like the boy you used to be.

I remember, too, weeping similar tears when I knew I'd have to go. It wasn't going I minded, but going without you. Oh, Sam! The agony I put you through by leaving I will never forgive myself for. If in all my life, I have done one, irredeemable thing, it was to cause you pain. It was hardest thing I've ever done, leaving you. For all the healing of these lands, they have nothing that compares to your touch, your eyes, your easy smile. Blessed they may be, but don't hold your light.

And yet I know it was harder for you. I left you behind, abandoned you for my own happiness, but Sam, I wasn't happy. In those long weeks across the Sea, not a single smile crossed my face. All I could see were your eyes in those last moments, downcast and sorrowful. But you looked up at me when I got on the boat, and your eyes burned into mine with a strange desperation of love and loss, and a bittersweet farewell. One look said more than I could ever describe, though the years I have are numberless. 

But, my love, ever true to yourself, sudden hope blazed in those eyes, and a question. I don't know how I read it, read _you_ in those fathomless emerald depths, but I did. And I nodded. And for sixty-three years, I clung to the memory of your dazzling, radiant smile. The Lady's Phial is poor competition to the light with which you shine, and I strained my sight to see you long after the shore had disappeared.

When I heard you were coming, my shriek of joy deafened half the Elves on Tol Eressea, but I didn't care. The weeks, which had passed unnoticed all those long years suddenly became longer than the years themselves. I would beg Gandalf for news until he snapped at me to leave him alone. I went to the lookout rock, and near-blinded myself with straining to see a sign of you – any sign. But the vast expanse of the Sea remained empty, week after week. 

Then Bilbo sighted the sail, and I again proceeded to do serious harm to the elegantly pointed ears of the island's inhabitants. I ran to the harbor, but hours passed, and the ship moved by inches, it seemed. Patience has never been my strong point, Sam – that was always you. Just when I thought my heart would burst from it all, the ship neared rapidly.

I realize I'm not ready for this. You've been gone so long, so long. You've had a wife, and thirteen children – thirteen! It amazes me to think of it. And grandchildren, too, you've had, but I'd never believe it. I left you young, just five years past your majority, with golden hair and youthful face, and young you'll come to me again, my Elven-fair. 

The ship draws nearer all the while, and now I can _see_ you. You're standing at the helm with Lord Cirdan, and a sudden gleam of sun makes your hair flame gold. My Sam! You've come back to me, after all this time, and I'm not ready for you. My heart is pounding and my breath comes short, and I realize I'm terrified. What if you don't love me? What if you've changed? What if what we once were to each other is nothing but a memory to you? 

Now I see your face, so young, so beautiful. My princeling. You do not see me, or do not look at me. You are speaking earnestly to Cirdan. He lays his hand on your shoulder and says something I cannot hear; something I would not have heard had he shouted it in my ears. My entire universe has slowed, has dwindled to this moment, and to you. 

Cirdan lowers the ramp, and my heart stops. Someone pushes me forward, and Cirdan gently touches your shoulder. Our eyes meet and lock and we stand, frozen, for a long moment. Cirdan again touches your shoulder, and gestures that you should go. I see you hesitate, biting your lip uncertainly, and with that uncertainty, all of mine vanishes. "Sam?" I call, and begin to stride up the ramp. I hold open my arms to receive you. No need. 

You're already there.


End file.
